


While You Were Gone

by sarcastic_fina



Series: The Multiships of One Chloe Sullivan [45]
Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: With Clark and Lois gone Chloe is left to her own devices, but there’s someone else willing to help pick up the pieces and in the process, heal himself along the way.[Originally posted in 2009 on LiveJournal]





	1. Part One

**I**.

He came through the window like a common burglar. He knew where the key was, could’ve come through the door like any average person, but then… Neither of them were really so average. She’d been lying there awake for hours, tossing and turning and staring at the dark ceiling, half hoping it’d cave in and put her out of her misery. They were all gone and now she was left with empty silence, something she’d never been able to handle well.

He didn’t speak and she didn’t want him to. Instead, he sat at the edge of her bed, his head bowed and his arms hanging loosely off his lap. Grief, anger, confusion; it swamped him. She knew those feelings well, but just as she hadn’t known what to do with her own exhausting range of emotions, she simply waited.

Finally, when it seemed neither of them could sit in suspense any longer, he simply slid to his side and curled up next to her, faced away. She took the silent cue and turned to face the opposite wall. Inhaling deeply, catching the thick scent of leather and sweat, she let her eyes close and welcomed the once illusive sleep.

It went on in the same manner for weeks. He’d show up, often around three or four in the morning, say nothing, sit in quiet contemplation and then lay down. They didn’t touch, they didn’t speak and he never really looked at her. Part of her felt he was apologizing in some way. But simultaneously, she felt as if he was seeking her comfort as well.

She found herself angry some mornings, waking up to find him gone and herself mad that he thought he could come to her, lay in the same bed as Jimmy once had. She would tell herself that when he came that night, she’d ask him to stop. She’d tell him they couldn’t do this, whatever it was. But then he’d arrive and the same routine would occur and she’d stay silent, no longer upset but needing that warmth and weight next to her.

The first couple weeks, she told herself he was Jimmy. She calmed herself by pretending he hadn’t died, that he was right there next to her. That there was never a Davis Bloome to enter and destroy the life she’d built. But then she’d inhale and the scent of sandalwood, fresh air and sweat would invade her nostrils, reminding her that the man lying beside her was nothing like Jimmy. And while it hurt, knowing that bubble had been burst, it also served to heal. There was no chance for denial any longer and after awhile, she simply stopped and accepted that he was gone, but that didn’t mean she was alone.

The first time he spoke, she found herself less startled than expected.

“I caught a robber tonight… Lurked around the ATM’s with no luck, so he thought he’d give the pawn shop a try…” He shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “He begged me to let him go, said he was just trying to survive…”

She waited, stared, watched the quickly morphing play of emotions displayed on his streetlamp lit face.

“And I did,” he finally said, his voice low, hoarse. “He would’ve scared, possibly even hurt, the people that arrived at those ATM’s. He would’ve ransacked somebody’s business, taking what he liked and selling it off to the highest bidder. And he’ll do it again, I know that. But… I let him go this time.” He sighed, his head falling impossibly lower for him to rub at his eyes in frustration.

She didn’t have to ask why because he was already gathering his reasons.

“I looked at him and all I could see was some pathetic human being… And maybe he _was_ just trying to survive or maybe… Maybe he enjoys the thrill. I don’t know… But I know he seemed like an insignificant _ant_ compared to the cockroaches that are quickly taking over… The monsters, both human and alien, that will do _anything_ not to survive but to conquer…” Hands ran through his hair before falling to rub at his neck, tugging the voice distorter away and tossing it to the floor carelessly.

“What am I doing?” he asked, closing his eyes tightly.

She wasn’t sure why she did it; words would’ve been just as effective. But instead, she sat up on her knees and reached out for him. She looped her arms over his shoulders, lowered the zipper on his vest and pulled it down off of him, letting it fall to the floor. And then she hugged him, her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades and her arms wrapped loosely around him, hand pressed against his chest; the thrum of his heart felt against her palm.

“Surviving,” she murmured gently.

His hand rose, covered hers, and they sat like that, simply breathing in silence.

After awhile, she felt her eyes grow heavy and without thinking it through, she tugged him back until he was lying on the bed next to her. But this time, she didn’t turn away and neither did he. He laid on his back, still holding her hand and together, they let themselves sleep.

The routine changed then, he would arrive and he would lie down but if he needed to, he would talk and share and slowly, she felt certain he was healing. She remembered all too well the fallen hero he resembled but now he was becoming the man she had once looked up to and admired for his strong sense of loyalty and justice.

Tales of sadness, of mistakes and regret were turning into those of triumph, of the thrill he gained from knowing he’d done the right thing and saved someone in the long run. He still wouldn’t look at her, but when he spoke his words were only for her. He was no longer subdued or pained, he was freely opening up to her about the bad guys and the good guys and the reasons he had for what he did. He told her about Tess, the whole sordid tale, he explained everything with Lois and how the love he was certain he’d felt for the both of them was nothing like what it appeared. And some nights, when the room seemed darkest, he would share his memories of his parents with her. His hand held hers tighter those times and her thumb would stroke back and forth, trying to comfort him as his mouth ran ahead of him, his mind caught up in the past.

The nights he didn’t speak she knew were her turn. And she let them pass for the first while, instead welcoming sleep rather than the comfort of release. But then, one night, while he simply laid there, drawing figure-eights on her palm, she spoke.

“I loved him… I still do. But sometimes, I wonder what it would’ve been like if I’d never met him. Either of them… I wonder what my life would’ve turned out like. There’d be less drama but would I be any happier?” Her eyes stared searchingly into the night, as if seeking an answer she wouldn’t find.

He said nothing, waiting just as she had.

“And sometimes… Sometimes I’m…” She choked on a whimper. “Sometimes I’m _happy_ he’s gone… Because I think I would’ve just hurt him more in the end…” She shook her head, her eyes falling closed and squeezing the tears out in their pursuit to hold onto her emotions. “I think…” She inhaled shakily, “I _know_ that as much as we loved each other… It never would’ve worked.” She grit her teeth to end the sob before it escaped. “I kept too much from him and I was willing to keep doing that. Even when he said he knew about Clark, the rest of me knew that it was only a small, tiny part of the mountain’s worth of secrets I knew…”

She sniffled, balling her hand up in the blanket across her so she wouldn’t wipe at her face, as if he hadn’t already noticed she was crying. “And I wouldn’t tell him the rest. I wouldn’t put you and the others at risk… So I let him go on in this life with me, where he barely knew half of what I did or why I did it. Like I could keep him safe somehow… Or maybe I was selfish, I don’t know… I just know that whatever happened, I couldn’t and wouldn’t tell him what he so desperately needed me to.”

She gave up then, lifted a hand and wiped furiously at her face, pinching her brow to stop the headache that formed there. “And I’d do it all over again… Even knowing now what happened…” Her head turned side to side. “I lost him and Lois and Clark… But…” Her lips trembled. “I’m starting to think I’m supposed to be alone, because everybody around me just keeps getting hurt or killed or… or leaves me.”

Tired of trying to hold in her cries, the dam broke and she sobbed heartbrokenly, forgetting any semblance of courtesy and letting her body be wracked painfully with tears.

And he gathered her up, drew her into him and held her. Her face buried against his chest, tears and likely snot spilling out of her and onto him. His fingers stroked her hair and his warmth calmed her. It could’ve been minutes or hours, but eventually, she let her eyes fall closed and focused on the hitch in her breathing, listening only to the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear.

When she woke that morning, he hadn’t left like usual. He wasn’t sleeping either, which surprised her some. And he looked at her, for what seemed like the first time in ages.

“Coffee?” he asked her, lifting a brow.

She nodded mutely.

“Two sugars, one cream,” he recalled, not bothering to look back and see if he was right.

“Three sugars, no cream,” she murmured to herself, knowing _his_ order just as well.

When he came back, she glanced down at the green leather pants he was still wearing. He’d taken to removing his own vest and distorter before joining her these days.

As he passed her mug to her, she jutted her chin out, “Those can’t be comfortable.”

He looked down and then shrugged. “You get used to them.”

She snorted into her coffee before taking in a long swig. “Somehow I doubt it.”

A smile cracked his mouth. “So you’re nixing leather on your team outfit?”

Startled, she looked up. “I’m still on the team?”

His humor faded. “We’ve all made mistakes… Can’t stand to lose any allies though, especially those as loyal as you.”

Her gaze fell, staring at the blanket thoughtfully. “Leather doesn’t breathe well,” she finally said and felt a sense of relief flood her.

“And here I was thinking a red cat suit was so _you_ ,” he cracked lightly.

Shaking her head, she leaned back against the headboard. “Obviously you’re sleep deprived.”

Chuckling, he sat down on the edge of the bed, no longer the morose figure he’d once been. “Actually, lately, I’ve been sleeping better than ever.”

“All right, we’ll chalk it up to insanity then.”

He nodded with an easy shrug. “Not the first insanity accusation I’ve heard.”

“Repetition is telling.”

“True.” Running a hand through his bed ruffled hair, he looked over at her from atop his shoulder. “Think I should check myself into Belle Reve?”

“That would only mean I’d have to come up with some elaborate plan to get you out. Please, spare me the work,” she replied, finding her mouth curving. She hadn’t felt this at ease in too long.

“Without the cat suit, you have no disguise,” he reminded.

She quirked a brow, resting her mug on her lap. “And since when has all black gone out of fashion in the breaking and entering realm?”

He rolled his eyes. “No self-respecting hero would sink so low.”

Shaking her head, she smirked smugly, “I’m the sidekick, remember? I can wear what I want.”

“Unfortunately for you, this team has a strict rule on uniforms,” he replied just as smartly.

Her mouth dropped open and a short laugh escaped. “Bart wears a hoodie and jeans!”

“That’s as close to covert as I could get him,” he replied with a shrug. “And you’ll notice neither are black.”

Her brow furrowed comically. “So what, I change the color on my retro burglar outfit, and I’m okay?”

“No, still too lame.” Leaning back, he grinned. “What’s your opinion on nylon?”

With a short chuckle of amusement, she tossed a pillow at his head in answer.

Catching it easily, he stuffed it under his side to lean more comfortably. “All right, we’ll work on the outfit, but in all seriousness, I would like to have you back at the watchtower, doing what you do best…”

Smile fading, she chewed her lip. She couldn’t remember leaving her apartment for anything more than a few vital groceries and the newspaper.

“There’s no rush, but… I wanted you to know you’re still welcome… That you always will be.” He stared up at her searchingly, brown eyes sincere and caring.

Nodding, she turned her gaze back down to her coffee. “I’ll see what my schedule says and get back to you,” she told him lightly.

“Good.” Climbing off the bed, he reached down to grab his distorter and vest. “Think if I go out now, people will just think I’m a weirdo with a fetish for Halloween?”

Rolling her eyes, she pointed to a closet behind him. “I think I have some clothes in there that’ll fit you. You’re too big for anything of Jimmy’s, but after a few late-night pow-wow’s with Clark, often resulting in him staying entirely too long and camping out on my couch, things get left behind.”

Nodding, he perused the closet to find an old pair of sweatpants and a sweater. “Covert enough to get back?” he asked, holding them up.

“They’re not black, but I think they’ll pass.”

With a nod, he walked toward the door. “You need anything…” he called to her.

“I know.”

He turned a smile in her direction before visiting the bathroom to change and using the front door to exit.

For the first time in several weeks, she felt ready to face the world.

He didn’t stop visiting.

Except now, whether conversation came from either part or not, they wound up lying close together. Her head found his chest and his hand stroked her hair absently. And before she fell asleep, she felt him kiss her forehead tenderly. He stopped disappearing before she woke and one day there was a duffel bag on her floor, so he had something to change into come the morning. He never unpacked, but he was always there, always present for every big and small event to come.

He stayed in the room with her as moral support when she decided it was time to pack up all of Jimmy’s things. He held her as she cried when the police announced the search for Lois was officially called to an end. He supported her when she gave the reigns to ISIS over to someone who would give the foundation the care and attention it needed. And every night, he held her and listened to her and never let her fall into the depths of loneliness always ready to creep in.

She didn’t know how to thank him, but then, she was pretty sure they were supporting each other equally. When he fell, she picked him back up, when he needed to talk, she listened, when he questioned himself, she was there to talk sense into him. And the weight of life shifted, now balanced comfortably between them rather than on top of either of them. She felt refreshed and appreciative and eventually, as if the world was no longer trying to crush her.


	2. Part One

******II**.

The day one year dawned, she was surprised to wake up and find him sleeping in. He’d kicked off his half of the blanket, lying on his back in his low-slung plaid pajama pants, with one hand tossed across his bare stomach and his free arm lying above her pillow, fingers still in her hair.

She stared at him a long while, noticing how sleep took away the stoic professionalism that plagued his handsome features. His mouth was relaxed, no longer in the frown he often sported or the smile she’d gained in friendly conversation. His hair was ruffled, free of product and falling loosely across his forehead.

“Stare any longer and I’ll be officially creeped out.”

Rolling her eyes, she replied, “I wasn’t staring… I was simply in shock that you slept past me… I was questioning whether you were, in fact, a pod person.” She smiled as he opened his eyes to look up at her with lazy amusement. “You never know these days…”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Occasionally, I _do_ sleep past six.”

Her brows rose with mocking emphasis. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Stretching his arms out, he shrugged. “Haven’t had a lot of time for that.”

Returned from a three week mission in Prague, she couldn’t really blame him for taking a little while longer to lie around. But the boys were likely already at his penthouse, wondering where he was.

As if reading her mind he said, “I told them I’d call them when I was ready for us to all debrief.”

“So you were planning on hogging my bed for a sleep-in all this time?” she teased.

His mouth curled. “If you could pick between a cold, empty bed and one with a beautiful hero, which would you go for?”

“How beautiful?”

He laughed, turning over onto his stomach but staying as relaxed as she’d ever seen him. “Three weeks is a long time, Sidekick,” he murmured, looking up at her from the perch of his balled up pillow.

“Admittedly, the bed was unusually empty.” In fact, she’d spent a lot of time tossing and turning, trying to find a place to lie comfortably. She wasn’t used to not having him right there, her arm slung over his waist and her face buried in his chest. And what sleep she did get was little and left her feeling drained the next day.

He smiled. “You missed me,” he decided rather smugly.

“I had the blanket to myself for once,” she replied easily. “Why steal it if you’re not going to use it?” she asked, motioning toward the mess he’d made.

He simply went on smiling. “Bet you couldn’t get a goodnight’s rest without me here,” he joked.

“I slept better than ever. This bed is much bigger than I remember and I had the whole of it to sprawl out on. Without your gigantic body there to take it all up, I’m practically on an island of comfort!”

“Deny all you want.”

Rolling her eyes, she stood up from the bed. “While you get a few more minutes, I’m making coffee.”

“Who am I supposed to cuddle with?” he called out to her, amused.

“Your ego is always up to a little stroking,” she returned, making her way to her kitchen.

* * *

Arriving together at the penthouse, they found the team already there. Bart was submerged in the fridge, half of its contents spread across the island counter top, AC was crashed out on the couch listening to his iPod, Victor was on his laptop and Dinah was pacing the length of the living room boredly.

“No, don’t start without us,” he called out, a brow lifted.

Bart grinned through a wad of cheese sandwich crammed in his mouth. He sped across the room, appearing next to Chloe and slinging a flirty arm around her waist. “Like we’d start without the very soul of the League present…”

With an amused roll of her eyes, Chloe shook her head. “I’m flattered, really. But let’s save this love story until _after_ work, all right?”

“Here that?” Bart exclaimed brightly. “She said she loved me!”

“If we could focus,” Oliver implied.

“All right, all right, everybody take a seat. I want a full report and—“ She held up a hand as Bart eagerly sat forward, ready to tell his end. “We’ll start with Cyborg,” she said, shaking her head. “What’ve you got, Victor?”

Grinning smugly, he sat forward to give her his part.

Bored and twitchy, Bart waited impatiently for his turn, but in the process found his attention on Chloe. Usually, he could content himself with simply looking at her, listening to her mumble and hum to herself as she took notes, but his eyes were drawn away by the hand that was currently stroking up and down her back absently. Eyes narrowing, Bart followed the hand up the arm to the recipient and found Oliver was nodding along as he too listened intently to Victor, however his hand was keenly running up and down and massaging circles along Chloe’s back. His mind wandered, trying to place a time when the two of them started being so affectionate and comfortable with each other.

Things had changed since Lois went missing and Clark had essentially abandoned all of his friends, the JLA included. Chloe had become more essential to the League and with that came her close friendship with Oliver, which seemed to build outside of headquarters as dad by day, the two of them appeared with more inside jokes and a connection between them that nobody had bore witness to. But there it was, in all of its obvious perfection. And suddenly, reality slapped him hard in the face. It wasn’t so much when it had started as it was when it’d become so second-nature it didn’t draw the eye any longer.

Neither Victor nor A.C. blinked at the affection displayed between the two, even Dinah who was always quick to point out the flaws in having any sort’ve connection or partnership paid no mind. It was a bit of a sting to his ego, Bart had to admit, but he wasn’t as put out as he might’ve once been. His brow furrowed; he loved Chloe, she was his ‘licious, but when it came down to it, they had more of a friendship and she and Oliver were… _right_ together. But enough of that sappy crap, he thought, bouncing in his seat. It was his turn to remind all of his awesomeness while regaling Chloelicious with his adventure in Prague. If it made her smile, laugh or even roll her eyes, mission accomplished. She and Ollie might have something serious going, but Bart lived for those moments where all of her attention was solely on him.

“All right, so it all started at the taco vendor early Monday morning,” he began, grinning.

* * *

“No. Freaking. Way.” Lois looked around with wide, shocked eyes. “Twilight Zone much, Smallville? What the hell was all that?”

Clark frowned to himself, keeping the stoic façade he’d carefully constructed well in place. “I don’t have time to explain, so if we could—“

“Ha! Yeah right! If you think you’re going to talk yourself out of this one, you’re sadly _mistaken!_ ” she exclaimed, crossing her arms and stepping into his personal space with stubborn intensity. “I want to know what I just saw and I don’t want any glazing of the facts.” Her chin jutted out menacingly as she poked him in the chest. “Spill it.”

He sighed. How the hell was he going to get out of this one?

They stood silently in a battle of wills, people walking past without glancing at them, careless of the imposing figures they cut in the center of the sidewalk. A lot had changed in a year, evident in the architecture around him. Yes, it was still the same Metropolis it had been when he’d left, but there were new buildings and faces all around. The date on a newspaper nearby had him squinting to magnify his vision.

September 9th, 2010

Right, even if he managed to explain away what she’d managed to see and remember of the future, he couldn’t explain how an entire year had passed… Not without explaining a whole lot of truths he had no desire to share with her. Or at least, he shouldn’t want to and yet… Despite his training, his convincing of himself, he couldn’t help but stare at her with the same hopes and regrets of the past. An entire year spent working hard to become what destiny desired of him and simultaneously fighting to get her back to the present. And here she was, in all of her angry and curious glory, expecting a whole lot of answers.

He cleared his throat, wishing his training had covered how best to lie to someone that could spot a fib from three planets over.

* * *

With the debriefing over and the team out of his penthouse, Oliver was left cleaning up the mess left in their wake. Chloe carried a garbage bag around his living room, gathering up pizza boxes and stray pop bottles. “Did you see Bart sneak in a Red Bull?” she called out to him, wonderingly. “I thought we put that on his ‘banned’ list.”

Oliver snorted. “Might as well ban him from running altogether.”

Shaking her head, she entered the kitchen, holding the heavy bag in one hand. “How did you manage all this time in Prague without me?”

“I want to say effortlessly,” he replied, mouth curling with amusement. “But, you were truly missed, Sidekick.” Taking the garbage from her, he tied it up and placed it next to the recycling bin. “What’s it going to take to convince you to travel the world at my side?”

A sliver of a shiver crept up her spine, but she ignored it as well as she had in the past. “Don’t think I can be bought, Queen. That’d be your first mistake.”

“No…” He grinned. “All right, I’ll have to find some other weakness of yours then.”

Her eyes thinned playfully. “Supposing I have any.”

His hands found her hips as they often naturally did and he drew her close; her own lifted, clasping around his forearms as her body so easily catered to his own. “Almond mocha…”

She hummed, enticed.

“Extra whip…”

She bit her lip, eyes fluttering.

“Brought to you every morning, courtesy of room service, wherever we might be…”

“Close.” She sighed, looking up at him thoughtfully. “But… I can just buy myself one every morning and keep in touch with all of you via satellite.”

His head tipped agreeably to the side. “True… But then you spend weeks on end in that very large, very empty bed…” He frowned as if this was a torturous means of living.

She snorted. “Are you looking out for me or yourself here? Because I think if anybody was missing anybody, _you_ were missing _me_.”

Squeezing her sides, he nodded ever-so-slightly. “Hm. Well… I could be looking out for the both of us. If only you would admit that you missed me _too_.”

Her palms splayed across his chest, fingers absently stroking his tie. “And if we agree that we missed each other, what then?”

His brow quirked. “We take precautions so that at later dates we don’t have to suffer.”

Her lips pursed knowingly. “Which is code for you getting your way and taking me along for the ride… isn’t it?”

He stared at her searchingly. “Would that be so bad?”

“No… But I kind of like hearing you _beg_ ,” she teased, smiling.

Laughing lightly, he drew her a few inches nearer. “ _Please_ , oh please, come with me… _us_ next time.”

She was caught for a moment by the sincere hope in his dark brown eyes and lost all sense of speech. It’d been a long three weeks, she told herself, which was the only reason she wanted to wrap her arms around him and spend the rest of the day simply cuddled up. There was no other explanation for the desires plaguing her mind. When his hands slid up her back, fingers kneading her flesh as he waited rather impatiently, she drew herself out of her thoughts. “I will definitely think about it.”

He half-smiled. “Fine, milk it all you want, but I _will_ get you in the end.”

That persistent shiver snuck up her spine once more and to hide it, she squeezed his shoulders. “How about as a way of further encouraging me, you take me out for dinner?”

“Anywhere you like,” he agreed easily.

With that, she assured herself that they were on the same page. Close and good friends, just out to enjoy his arrival home. Still, she couldn’t stop the wonder at the back of her mind as they left the building and began the walk down the road to their favorite Italian restaurant, hand in hand.

* * *

 

Lois blinked, speechless.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear…” Clark trailed off uncertainly.

“Not what I want to hear?” Her brow furrowed. “You just told me the most ridiculous story I’ve ever _heard_ … And I worked at the Inquisitor!”

Shrugging, he felt a flush creep up his neck. “Look, Lois… I know it’s hard, but I need you not to dig into this too much.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Her eyes widened. “Did you hit your head on our way back to reality?” She reached out and, without hesitation, slapped him across the face hard enough to knock some sense into him.

Glaring, he took a step back. “Was that necessary?”

“Uh, were you _listening_? You just spilled some senseless crap about comas and realistic _dreams_. If anybody needs to go see a doctor, it’s _you!_ ” Shaking her head, she whirled around and began stomping away from him. “In fact, you know what? I don’t need your explanation. I think I can put this together on my own. When you feel like joining me here in _the present_ , why don’t you meet me at Chloe’s place, all right?”

“The pres—Chloe’s?” He stopped, expression widening. “Lois, you can’t just show up at Chloe’s!”

“What? Why?” she snapped over her shoulder. “In case you have memory loss, my little cousin hasn’t seen me in what feels like, oh I dunno, _a year!_ And trust me; we’ve got _a lot_ to discuss!”

Hurrying to catch up to her, he grabbed her shoulder and turned her around to face him. “Listen… Things have… _changed_ since…” He trailed off, not sure how to word it right.

“Since I disappeared into the future a year ago? Uh, yeah, I figured that.” Rolling her eyes, she yanked away from him and continued down the road. “Don’t worry about me, Smallville, I’m resourceful enough for the both of us.”

Sighing, Clark shook his head and instead of fighting, he followed. He wasn’t sure what to expect or even where to go. He hadn’t seen the likes of Chloe Sullivan since over a year ago, when he’d chosen his rightful destiny over his friendship with her. The pang in his chest was reminiscent of his old self, but he was reminded that he couldn’t be who he was, he had to be better. Even if he had very little idea of how.

“Hurry up, I wanna see _what_ and _who_ Chloe’s been doing…” Lois shouted back to him.

With a frown, Clark only hoped things wouldn’t seriously blow up in his face as they were oft to do.


	3. Part Three

**III**.

With an amused grin, Oliver narrowed his brows at her. “What are you doing?”

Chloe continued to roll the wine glass in her hand. “I’m pretending I know something about wine other than two glasses and I’m giggly…”

With a half-snort, half-laugh, he shook his head. “Do I want to know?”

Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Without the boys around to drive me up the wall, I fell in love with the cooking channel…”

He quirked an amused brow. “As long as you don’t sip, swill and spit…”

Grinning, she shrugged. “So what were you doing on your off-time in Prague? Other than wishing I was there, of course.”

“Naturally,” he agreed, tilting his head acquiescingly. “I did some sight-seeing to keep the charade up and…” He frowned comically. “No, the rest of the trip was definitely spent pining for you.”

Laughing, she sipped her wine. “Well as long as your trip was eventful…”

“I did manage to kick some bad guy butt somewhere in between pining and sight-seeing.”

“Good work. Those muscles aren’t all just for show then.”

He flexed and winked, enjoying her chuckle. “So you’ve noticed then.”

“Hard to miss.”

“If I’m going to parade around in leather, I should at least look good…”

“Exactly.”

Their eyes caught and held as their smiles grew, a moment shared.

“Can I get you anything for dessert?” a waitress suddenly interrupted.

Distracted, they both looked toward her abruptly.

“Uh no… Thank you. Everything was great,” Chloe answered, clearing her throat as discomfort set in.

Nodding, the waitress picked up the remaining plates and assured them she’d return with their check.

Just about to break the silence, Chloe opened her mouth to say something only to have her eyes caught by a couple of familiar figures walking past the front window. Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing. It couldn’t be… Suddenly, she was standing up from her seat and moving across the restaurant.

“Uh, Chloe?” Oliver asked after her, rising to follow.

Without reply, she hurried out the front door, searching the dark streets for the two faces she  _swore_ she’d seen. “I… I thought…” She shook her head. They were nowhere to be seen. But… Had she imagined it like so many times before? She’d seen a couple bickering; both tall, dark hair, wildly waving hands and stubborn expressions.

With a sigh, she turned to face Oliver. At her expression, his confusion melted away. Like always, he understood without needing her to explain and simply gathered her into his arms, hugging her close. She found comfort there, face pressed to his chest, inhaling the scent that so embodied him. His arms were strong, heavy around her, encasing her as if a shield against all else. He kissed her hair, murmured something unintelligible and in thanks she squeezed his waist with her arms, simply accepting this moment like all those of the past. She would see someone who looked just like Clark or so resembled her cousin that she abandoned all else to make sure, only to come up empty and have Oliver there to wipe away the sadness once more. How long would it be until she stopped seeing them in other people’s faces?

The moment was once more interrupted as the maitre d’ came calling for them to pay for dinner. Their coats were brought out as Oliver handed over a credit card and before long, they were walking back to Queen Towers, her huddled against his side with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Nights like these were often spent reminiscing about their friends or in silence, escaping in a movie as they sprawled on the couch, watching some B-list flick to occupy their minds. The elevator rose slow and quiet and while she knew her own apartment wasn’t far and she could easily go home and eat a bucket of ice cream, she’d rather spent it with him.

It was as he knelt knowingly next to his collection of DVD’s that she came to a new conclusion. She didn’t want this anymore, didn’t want to ignore or pretend or continue living in a past that wouldn’t have her. Crossing the room, she came to a decision; one that she knew would change the very footing of all that she relied on. He rose, his brows furrowed questioningly.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Don’t hate me…”

“I could never—“

He was cut off by the impact of her lips against his. Her eyes were shut tight as if she expected shock and denial to reign heavy on his face and so sought to hide from it. But just as quickly as she’d kissed him, he began kissing her back. Her stiff body relaxed, melting forward into his. The steady form he made stood tall and strong as she used his to keep herself from falling into a graceless puddle at his feet. She’d imagined, more often than she’d admit to, that she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He had beautiful lips; pink, soft-looking even when set in a firm frown. They were the kind of lips that knew what to do, how to kiss, how to caress and entice. All of this was speculation, of course, but now she knew for certain.

His hands cupped her cheeks before stroking her hair back and away, fingers burying at the nape of her neck. His mouth parted and she followed willingly, her tongue reaching, tangling and drowning in his. He tasted vaguely of the red wine they’d been enjoying but the heat of his mouth was overpowering, spreading from her tongue to her lips, fanning across her face and sliding sensually down her neck, scorching her spine with awareness. Her knees shook with the knowledge that she was about to be enveloped in the wildest of passions.

Somehow, her hands had found purchase on his shoulders, fingers playing with the collar of his coat. Encouraged into action, they slipped beneath and pushed up and away until the heavy fabric fell and slid down his arms, hanging limply from his bent elbows. Letting go of her, he shook his coat away and gripped her hips as their lips met in frenzied kisses while her hands worked on getting his dress shirt undone and off of him, stopping to stroke and explore his chest. Fed up and always impatient, he separated from her, breathing harshly as he simply tore open the last bit of his shirt and threw it to the ground before reaching for her once more.

Panting, she appreciatively buried herself against him once more. His mouth was diligently kissing her face, her neck, down her shoulder as he hastily drew her blouse off her shoulders, tearing it away and sending buttons flying carelessly. She couldn’t muster the indignation at having just lost her favorite red top seeing as she wanted it off as much as he did. His knuckles brushed against her stomach as he tugged the waistband of her skirt, yanking her up against him. His free hand cupped her ass and lifted her until her legs tangled around his waist, tight and possessive.

Arms hugged around his neck, she bent her head to kiss him once more, losing all sense of thought in the sensations of his lips pressed to her own, his teeth nibbling and his tongue dragging everywhere. Breathless, she drew away for a split-second. “Should we be--?”

He nodded vigorously, stumbling toward his bedroom. “I’ve waited… We’ve waited… Long enough… Right?” He stared up at her, stopping in the threshold of his room. His neck was strained, his hair in disarray from her fingers running through it, his lips swollen and breath coming in thick pants. He was beautiful. And scared… Worried that what she started was going to end…

One year, two months… Since Jimmy, Davis, Clark and Lois… Since he entered her life looking for redemption and gave her the chance for her own… Since she got up and faced the world again, with him at her side… She still thought of Jimmy, still wondered what it might’ve been like if he’d lived, if she’d done something different. But the truth of it was, they wouldn’t have lasted, not as either of them wanted to and while she missed him, regretted her part in his death, she’d moved on. And she loved him, she did, but… But it was a different  _kind_ of love than what it had been.

She stared into Oliver’s eyes, found just what she was meant to and smiled. “Yeah…” Stroking his neck, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his. “Yeah.” Letting go once more and knowing now that it was right and okay to do so, she kissed him, slow and gentle.

Shakily, he took that step forward and accepted the consequences in doing so. The door was kicked shut haphazardly as they reached the bed. He laid her back, following to cover her with his much larger body. She looked up at him, half-smiling. Excitement and desire built in her stomach, spreading throughout her like a slow burning fire. He knelt between her parted legs, bent forward and reached out, brushing her bangs from her forehead. His hand lowered, rubbed a lock of her hair wonderingly before his knuckles traced her neck and his fingers spread as his palm slid down the center of her body, stopping at the valley of her breasts. She lifted up on her elbows, their faces aligning as he took his cue to reach around and undo the clasp. The plain white fabric that covered her chest fell easily away from her, laying useless against her stomach. He tossed it away, cupping her ribs, thumbs lightly brushing along the underside of her breasts. Her breath caught, her head falling back.

She could feel his breath skitter across her bare skin as he moved nearer, lips pressing against the flutter of her heartbeat in her throat, tongue flicking out. Her hands wrapped around his biceps as she laid back and relaxed, feeling every sensation to its fullest. The flex of his muscles vibrated in her fingers as she held on tight, using his strength to keep her steady. His mouth lowered, torturously slow, exploring her fast moving chest, nose brushing her breasts, lips following. She watched his descent with bated breath, swallowed tight as his eyes lifted and caught hers. His chin slid along her nipple moments before his mouth clasped around it, tongue swirling and teeth scraping. He was methodical in his every keen touch, making her feel it in the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

While his mouth enticed her breasts his hands were working her out of her skirt, drawing the confines of black material and lacey panties over her hips and down her thighs so she could kick them away. Naked entirely, she felt more comfortable now than she had ever before in similar situations. The way he touched her, looked at her, made her feel like there was nobody more beautiful, more exquisite than herself, as if he was entranced by her every inch.

She could feel the heat stirring between her thighs, the damp need that furthered with each kiss of his lips and touch of his hands. Her knees shook, legs falling further apart as he pressed against her, his hardness straining his pants and rubbing against her with enough friction to make her want more and yet not enough to bring her where she wanted desperately to be. Her hands gripped his shoulders, wandered down his back, squeezing, kneading, before finding the waist of his pants and tugging restlessly at them. She managed, with shaky hands, to undo his belt and push the material down slightly but before she could reach inside and wrap her fingers around him he’d unlatched from her breast and was kissing down her stomach. Her gut tightened, clenching as his mouth drew near to her slit.

One long stroke of his tongue along her folds had her legs falling impossibly apart and her body straining to arch. She felt herself quiver from the outside in, perched on the edge of oblivion, beautiful ecstasy so near and so far. His thumbs spread her for him before his mouth buried against her, suckling and tasting her as if the finest of delicacies. He held her down with his arm across her waist as she couldn’t help but buck against his attentive mouth. His finger slid inside her, long and thick, curved just right as he circled her clit with his tongue. She muffled a whimper, her eyes flying wide and then shutting tight as lights seemed to blur and explode in her vision. “God, Ollie…” she gasped as he sent her into a fit of spasms, shaking her with intense pleasure.

He licked her in slow strokes that brought her down from heaven and back to the moment. She felt weightless, dazed, beyond perfection. With a grin of smug satisfaction, he kissed her belly button affectionately before crawling up her body and burying his face against her neck, making her laugh effortlessly as he blew raspberries against her skin.

Lighthearted, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his hair, kneading his neck as he spread his body on top of hers and sighed.

“If you’re thinking of doing the chivalrous thing and saying that’ll be enough for tonight, rethink your plan,” she told him, lifting her brows knowingly.

He grinned. “You’re sure you can keep up?”

She tilted her hips, the contact of her heat against him making his smile wane and his jaw tighten. As his forehead fell to her shoulder, lost to the torturous beat of her rubbing, she whispered against his ear. “It’s not  _me_ you should be worrying about.”

With wanting precision she pushed his pants down, taking his boxer-briefs with them, and he had enough sense to kick them away. One large hand spread across her hip, lifting her up toward him for the taking. Their faces met, lips a breath apart. Even as the logistics were working in their lower halves -hips tilting, hands guiding- their eyes locked intimately, their lips came together gently. He thrust deep and her gasp had her lips parting for him, his tongue delving forward to intricately tangle with hers. Shared breaths, bending bodies, hands holding, stroking slick flesh. She felt him everywhere; his length deep inside, his fingers across her breasts, his body flexing, chest surging up and down in heavy rhythm with her own.

She remembered nights of just holding him, of listening to stories of his mischievous youth, of sneaking cookies from the kitchen and playing hide-and-go-seek with the maids. Those were nights where she cherished knowing the great Oliver Queen like she would any of her closest friends. He shared in grave detail all of the pitfalls of his life, so honest that she nearly felt as if she’d been there with him, feeling that anger and loss and fear.

One year, two months of just the two of them; fighting to live for and with both each other and themselves. Nights where he would hold her as she cried her heart out, of when he would laugh with her until her sides hurt. Countless conversations, stories, dinners that resembled dates but went untitled as such. Evenings spent with a bowl of popcorn and some movie that was meant to be an action/adventure and had no idea what the truth really was; what heroes were really like. He was there when she said goodbye to Jimmy for good, when she begged for her cousin to come home, when she wished Clark would quit being his big dumb alien self. He was there when she went to sleep, woke up, or if he couldn’t be, he was on the phone, the voice that never waned, was never heard saying goodbye for good. Like all the great men of her life, he would lay his life down for her own and she knew she’d do the same for him. Except, unlike the men before him, he was unwilling to walk away, for any reason.

He asked the hard questions and gave the honest answers. Picked her up when she fell and held her close when she needed it. He loved and cherished her when there was no one else and he didn’t expect anything in return except the friendship she freely gave. Where Clark had been her best friend, hugging her as no other could, Oliver had stood up and taken the position of protector and friend when Clark no longer would. He hugged her differently, yes, but with the same level of comfort and adoration. He took her hand when they walked together as if to remind her he was always there and she held tight, never wanting to let go. She was his first call when he returned from missions and the first face he wanted to see. The pain of Clark leaving still hurt but the knowledge that she had Oliver, that he wouldn’t make the same mistake, kept her going.

When he kissed her, she felt it to the deepest recesses of herself. Like a long-lost lover coming home he held her, caressed and loved her like no one else ever had or could. His hands gripped her hair as his body shook and withheld; as he prolonged the inevitable time and again to bring her to that desired end. She came around him twice, as his mouth suckled her breast and his fingers drew figure eights on her hip. She rolled onto her stomach, arched into him as he gripped her spread thighs and plunged in from behind, sinking in to the hilt, rubbing against her heavenly g-spot.

Elbows dug in against the bed, she cried out his name, singing it like hallelujah. He leaned over her, kissing her shoulder as he cupped her breast, massaging and squeezing while pumping faster, harder. He drew out as she was rocked once more, her body tightening and lifting for what seemed like agonizing moments of incredible euphoria. Even as she was gasping for air, fighting to keep her eyes open, he was pulling her into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. So sensitive and yet she wanted more, needed him again and again. Her arms were heavy on his shoulders, her forehead pressing damply against his own. He kissed her breathlessly; hands wrapped beneath her thighs, moving her on to him, up and down, slow and steady.

Her name was escaping his parted lips like a mantra. A bead of sweat escaped from his temple, down his cheek; without thought her tongue reached out and licked it away before she nuzzled his face with her nose and dragged her teeth along his jaw line. His breath hitched, his hands tightening around her and suddenly he was moving quicker, plunging deep inside her until she felt it reverberating through out her thrumming body.

His hands moved up her back, spread out to hold her as she leaned back, her breasts forced forward. He caught her nipple with his mouth, bit down just enough to have her cry out and clench around him. He moaned, his fingers digging into her skin. Running her hand up and down his neck, she pleaded, “Come for me…  _Please_ … O-Ollie… I wanna feel you… I  _need_ to…”

Words no longer existed for her after that. The air thinned, the room dimmed, all that was left was him, all around and inside her. Her body freely moved in every conceivable direction, taking the waves of pleasure while so overwhelmed she nearly tried to pull away. But he held tight, still thrusting, filling her with all of him. Slowly, the high began to fade, but still riding it, she barely felt it as he laid her back on the bed, hands rubbing at her legs and arms as if to bring feeling back. She laid spent, exhausted and thoroughly satisfied beyond understanding. She moved willingly into his arms as he tugged her close, wrapped himself around her and tossed a thin sheet across their bodies. She listened to his heart hammering in his chest, tried to calm her own as she processed all that just happened.

His fingers tangled in her hair, stayed there as he kissed the top of her head lingeringly.

“Sidekick?”

“Yeah,” she managed, voice quaky.

“Too early to tell you I love you?”

She smiled lazily. “I’m starting to think we’re both slow on the uptake…” She shook her head. “How  _exactly_ did we ignore this for a year?”

He laughed, his hand taking hers and holding on to it against his stomach. Had they been wearing clothes, and not just has mind-blowing sex, this might’ve been just the same as any other night…

With a yawn, she buried her face against his warm chest. “Oliver?”

“Mm?” he mumbled.

“I love you, too.”

And she did. Beyond reason or doubt.

For the first time in too long, everything seemed to be just right.

* * *

“Where the hell could she be at three in the morning?” Lois wondered, impatiently pacing the room. “Her long-lost cousin appears after one seriously crazy disappearing act and she’s not even here to  _greet_  me!?”

Clark rolled his eyes, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m sure she’ll throw you a welcome home party when she  _knows_ you’re back,” he sighed.

She rolled her eyes. “Not the point, Smallville. It’s  _three_ in the  _morning_. I know Chlo’s got a busy schedule, but even  _she_ has to sleep!”

Rubbing at his temples, Clark shrugged. “Maybe she’s with the League.”

Suddenly, Lois came to a stop in the room and turned toward him, her brow furrowed. “Wait… Shouldn’t you  _know_ where she is?” Her brow quirked. “You and Chloe have been palling it up since high school; she knows where you are before you’re even  _there_  and vice versa…” Her eyes narrowed, arms lifting to cross over her chest.

Lips pursed, Clark looked away. “Chloe’s been busy and so have I. She’s not equipped with Lo-Jack,” he muttered.

Angry, she stepped forward. “What did you  _do_?”

His head lifted abruptly. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Smallville. You show up in the future without her in toe, she’s not there when I return, let alone hours later when she should be back from whatever superhero business she’s involved with now…” She shook her head suspiciously. “You screwed up somehow…” She sighed, throwing her hands up. “Great! I leave her in your so-called capable hands, thinking if anything happens she’ll at least have you around, and you can’t even handle  _that!_ ”

“Excuse me if I’ve been a little busy trying to rescue  _you!_ ”

“Rescue me?” she shouted, eyes flashing. “Listen up, Kent! I’m no damsel in distress! I could’ve Houdini’d myself back given enough time!”

“You were gone a year!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, well, just because I was in the future doesn’t make day-to-day life a merry-go-round! I had work to do! There was a lot going on and it’s not like I just showed up and knew what the hell happened!”

Clark sighed, searching for the patience he’d meant to gain in his training and was now being severely tested. “Look, I’m sure Chloe is fine and she’ll be here any minute now.”

“You better hope so,” she warned, shaking her head. “If one hair is out of place on her pretty little head, I’m taking it out on you!”

Frowning, Clark nodded to appease her before returning to his brooding.

“And quit moping, already. It’s annoying.”

He rolled his eyes to himself and wished, not for the first time, that he had the ability to shut  _off_ his hearing.


	4. Part Four

******IV**.

Chloe woke up to a steaming cup of almond mocha with extra whip. She grinned, reaching for it happily and wrapping both hands around the mug, bringing it up to inhale deeply. The shower could be heard shutting off just as she leaned back against the headboard and took in her first long sip of coffee heaven. When the bathroom door opened, a cloud of steam exited followed by a dripping wet, towel-wearing Oliver Queen. He half-grinned as he saw her wide-awake and staring in his direction with interested eyes.

Licking her lips, she wondered, “Do I want to know what time it is?”

“Partial to staying in bed?” he asked, smirking.

She lifted a shoulder. “Depends if you’re joining me.”

With an easy flick of his hand his towel fell to the floor. He crossed to the bed and had her in his arms just as she placed her mug of coffee safely on the bedside table. She laughed as he peeled the sheet away and drew her on top of him. Running her fingers through his dripping wet hair, she smiled. “You’re gonna have to shower again…”

“Worth it,” he replied, capturing her lips.

“Mmm….”

She melted, subservient to desire.

* * *

 

The majority of the day was spent in his penthouse. Sex was followed by breakfast (or lunch, given the hour) in bed with a pointless shower serving only as a good place to test out the size of his shower stall. Wearing one of his long t-shirts, they cuddled on the couch, ignoring the phone in favor of a few Pay-Per-View movies that were also ignored in favor of making out like teenagers. It wasn’t until nightfall that reality came knocking; he had to go out patrolling and much as she’d like to stay behind at his penthouse she wanted to at least get a change of clothes. Not to mention, the League was meeting up again the next day and she felt like the words, “I just had amazing sex with the boss,” were stamped to her forehead.

So while he geared up and got ready to scout the city for the big bad guys she drove to the apartment Jimmy had bought for their happily ever after, once upon a time. Though now it served more as the place where her new life had begun, where she and Oliver had destiny come knocking. Not in the nicest of ways, admittedly, but… What happened was the past and what came out of it was the future; one she looked forward to exploring.

Walking inside her apartment she left the lights off and kicked her shoes to the side before silently padding toward her bedroom. While her bed wasn’t nearly as large or as comfortable as Oliver’s had been it was calling her now and she was not to disappoint. He’d more than likely appear in a few hours, crawl in next to her and drift off himself and with that thought she smiled, feeling happier than she had in too long.

It was as she turned on her bedroom light that she noticed something was off. Instincts told her to find her tazer, to attack without question, but something else had her turning, brows furrowed, curiosity getting the best of her. There was a foot hanging over the edge of her couch, a heel that was entirely too expensive and too high for any respectable hit-woman to be sporting. She stepped closer, careful and suspicious. But as her eyes focused and the face attached to those feet became clear, she wasn’t sure what to do. For a moment, she wondered if she was hallucinating. But when the person currently sprawled on her couch shifted, mumbled something about Whitesnake and then let out a very loud, very telling snore, she nearly cried.

“Lo?” It came out a whisper and so she repeated herself, louder now. “Lois?”

Sleeping Beauty moved, stirred, lifting her head and blinking sleepily. “Chloe?”

She laughed, a once cheerful sound shattering on a sob. “Lois!” she exclaimed, launching herself over the couch and landing heavily on her cousin, hugging her tight while caught somewhere between sheer happiness and a cloud of sadness at missing her so much.

Hugging her back, Lois patted her back. “See… This was what I was _expecting_ … Two days and no sign of you, I was beginning to wonder…”

“Two days?” Chloe drew back, wiping at her face. “You’ve been…” Her brow furrowed. “I… I think I saw you… Just outside _La Perla_ … I… I thought it was you but when I got outside you were gone and… and I swore you were with Clark, but that’s… impossible. Or… I thought it was, but… Here you are!” She laughed brokenly, her expression scrunching up. “You are here, right? I’m not having a really great dream only to wake up and be disappointed?”

Lois smiled. “Totally real. And I even have Smallville here to prove it.” She tossed a thumb behind her and Chloe focused in on the other figure currently inhabiting the whole of her armchair. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that…

Waking up, much more subdued than the two women in the room, Clark Kent took in the reunion with a stiff expression that even Chloe couldn’t quite read.

“Clark,” she said, her voice hesitant.

“Chloe,” he greeted back stoically.

“Uh, am I missing something?” Lois wondered bluntly.

Shaking her head, Chloe turned back to her. “I know I’ve been missing a certain favorite cousin,” she replied, eyes widening for emphasis. “Where have you been?”

Lois sighed, rolling her eyes. “Long story… One I am going to tell you in full, glorious detail. However, I’ve got a question that needs answering and don’t even _think_ of skimping on details… You and Oliver…” She grinned mischievously. “Spill.”

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat, her expression going from complete joy to shock. “H-How…? What…?”

Knowingly, Lois swung her legs over the side of the couch and sat up proudly. “Let’s just say I had a first-hand experience. Now… I want the full story and I’ve got a lot of time to hear it.”

Her brows rose. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all. Still surprised, her eyes slid toward the prone figure of Clark sitting with a confused expression permeating his face. “Uh, how about we hear your side of things first…” she suggested rather uncomfortably.

Frowning, Lois shrugged. “Fine. Leave me in the dark a little longer. But know that you can’t talk yourself around this one!” she said meaningfully. “While future-you wasn’t exactly accommodating, I’m not a number-one investigative reporter for nothing. If the wedding pictures weren’t proof enough, the Queen spawn gave you away…”

“W-Wedding…” Her eyes flew wide, jaw hanging loose. “Did you say _spawn_?”

Grinning, Lois’ always-mischievous eyes flashed excitably. “Cutest nephew to _ever_ live, I’m telling you!”

In need of a very deep breath, Chloe fell back against the couch in astonishment. “I think you need to start from the beginning,” she murmured.

Lois was only too happy to accommodate.

* * *

 

Dazed and a little shaken, Chloe made her way into the kitchen with a million and three thoughts all vying for her attention. She barely heard the telling footsteps following her. With Lois camped on her couch and Chloe agreeing to make her something to eat more out of surprise than anything else, she looked absently through her fridge. Clark’s imposing figure hovered behind the fridge door, expecting her to turn to him.

Annoyed, she looked up at him. “Hungry too, Clark? I hear time-travel takes a lot of energy…”

He frowned, lips pursing in what appeared to be chastisement.

She sighed, feeling tired already.

“Is what she said true?” he asked, arms crossing heavily over his chest, like a father scolding his daughter for misbehaving.

Her spine straightened with indignation. “You’re the one who rescued her from the _future_ , Clark. Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that?”

His jaw twitched, eyes turning away for a split-second. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting into,” he finally said.

Hands falling to her hips, she tipped her head. “I’m sorry… Did you want to plan out my life for me? One which you willingly _left_ , I’ll remind you!”

“I did what I had to,” he said simply. “Lois is back now and I know what’s coming next.”

“Congratulations. I’m so glad your escape from _humanity_ brought clarity,” she snapped.

He sighed, head falling slightly. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Shaking her head, she expelled a tired breath and turned around to get Lois’ sandwich started. “Yeah, well, you never really try… but it has a way of always happening,” she muttered rather bitterly.

“Chloe…” She knew that tone, it meant he was about to lecture her for what he deemed intolerable behavior. “Oliver isn’t the same guy we first met… He _killed_ Lex… That’s not something I can overlook. And… Everything to do with Jimmy and Davis… He played a part. Maybe if it wasn’t for him, Jimmy would still be here.”

Whirling around, she glared viciously at him. “You have no right…”

Frowning, he lifted his chin righteously. “He crossed a line. Murder isn’t forgivable.”

She winced, her expression stricken. Shaking her head, she licked her lips. “You don’t know him like I do, Clark… You have no idea who he is or… Or what we have.”

His eyes hardened. “I know he killed Lex… and his hands aren’t entirely clean when it comes to Jimmy either.”

Darkly, she inhaled, ready to fight back. “And I know that you have no right to walk into my life, a _year_ later, and try and tell me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. Who I choose to love is up to me and you have no say…”

“Love?” His eyes widened. “Chloe…” He sighed as if she’d just said something completely inane, as if he knew better than her and would talk her out of whatever she _thought_ she was feeling.

Throwing her hands up, she felt stress envelop her but couldn’t see any logical avenue to let it out through. “You just… You don’t _get it_ , do you?” She stared up at him with huge green eyes, the burn of tears lodged far in the back as she _refused_ to let them spill here, now, when she so wanted to be angry with him. “You weren’t _there!_ You don’t get to do this! You can’t just…”

Covering her face with her palms she inhaled deeply before letting her arms fall loosely at her sides. “For an entire year you did what you were sure you _had_ to and Oliver… He was broken and confused and…” Her brow furrowed. “And so was _I_. But, you know what? Neither of us ran away… Neither of us just gave up or disappeared or _abandoned_ those who cared about us, who we were _supposed_ to care about back!” She shook her head as her throat tightened, pent up anger overriding her hurt. “He stayed and he… He held me and listened to me and he talked to me like I was the person he could confide in without regret.”

Her hand lifted, fingers pressing against the pained knot of her brow. “You don’t know what it’s like to wake up and think you’re all alone and then… then realize that you’re _not_. Because _he’s_ there and he won’t ever leave you…” She swallowed thickly. “Because he _loves_ you and he’s seen the same things you have, he’s been hurt and kicked when he was down and he knows what it’s like to think the entire world should or _has_ turned its back on you… And still, through everything, all that you shared, that you admitted -your faults and weaknesses- he’s willing to tell you that it’ll be okay, that you’ll be all right. And…” She looked up at him, tears finally thickening over her lids and escaping down her cheeks. “And I believe him! Because whatever happens, he’ll never lie to me… never _leave_ me…” She shook her head, biting down hard on her lower lip as she tried to regain control.

He stared at her, his expression one of complete incomprehension, as if he absorbed her words but hadn’t yet been able to understand the meaning.

Shaken, she sighed. “I think you should go.”

“Chloe--”

“No! Clark!” she exclaimed, frustrated. “Just… Just butt out, please!”

His face went from uncertain to entirely masked before he nodded, backed out of the kitchen and left once more, without looking back.

Upset, Chloe turned around quickly and worked to make a sandwich with more precision than it really needed. With a glass of milk and food in hand, she returned to the kitchen to give Lois her very late dinner. Tired, her cousin rubbed her face and gave a long, not-so-feminine yawn. “Thanks,” she said, digging in.

Nodding silently, Chloe sat down next to her. “So…” For the first time in her entire life, she wasn’t sure what to say to her own cousin.

“You wanna tell me what’s been going on here in the present?” Lois asked through a mouthful.

Smiling more for Lois’ benefit than anything else, she nodded. “It’s not pretty.”

“Never is.”

Taking a deep breath, she prepared to explain it all, leaving no detail to the imagination.

* * *

 

Oliver arrived a few hours later, crawling through her window like he always did. However, he took one look at the occupied bed and blinked. As if somehow knowing he was there, Chloe stirred, yawning tiredly up at him. She smiled slightly.

“I’ll admit this was a dream of mine once,” he said, motioning to the other woman in the bed. “But I didn’t think you’d be game.”

Chuckling under her breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Cute.”

“I have my moments,” he said absently, narrowing his eyes at the figure currently hogging the blankets. “Do I _want_ to know what happened here or should I feel replaced? Moving on so quickly, Sidekick?” He smirked. “And I thought I left an impression.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “That ego gets any bigger and you won’t even _fit_ in my bed anymore.”

“I dunno. It fit fine before the other woman appeared…”

“Shuddup!” Lois whined sleepily. “Can’t a time-traveler get any _rest_ around here?”

Oliver’s expression sobered quickly. “Is that… who I think it is?”

“Future cousin-in-law, trying to catch up on sleep here… Take it somewhere else, Lovebirds, this bed is full!” Sprawling out, she nearly knocked Chloe off the end of the bed as she made to take over the entire bed.

“Did she just…” Brows furrowed, Oliver shook his head. “I’m really out of the loop right now, aren’t I?”

Standing up, Chloe took his hand. “I’ll explain everything.”

Glancing over his shoulder at his snoring ex-girlfriend, he laughed lightly. “You know what I said about having that dream once?” His brows rose. “It was recurring… And long before you and I ever happened.”

She snorted. “Keep dreaming, ‘cause it’ll never happen.”

Pouting comically, he took a seat on the couch next to her and settled in for what was sure to be a long story.

* * *

 

“All right… So Lois went to the future, wreaked a little havoc, met all of us and put the pieces together all on her own… Then Clark swooped in to save the day, a year later, and now she’s back for good with seemingly no repercussions…?” Oliver blinked, his shoulders feeling heavy. “Wow… When she does something, it’s never half-assed.”

Chloe snorted. “Yeah, that’s Lois for you.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “So we’re… married?”

Sliding her eyes toward him, she chewed her lip, nodding.

His lips quirked slightly. “And we have a son?”

“ _Cutest nephew to ever live_ ,” she quoted.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Not so surprising, given his genes.”

She laughed. “That’s all you have to say?”

He lifted his shoulders. “It’s weird… Really weird. But… I can’t say I’ve never thought about it.”

Turning in her seat, she rested her arm over the back of the couch, holding her head in the palm of her hand. “With me?”

Mirroring her position, he stared at her adoringly. “Nobody else better suited.”

She smiled. “That mean you took applications?”

His expression became mockingly serious. “Full resumes, background checks, I had to be sure… You understand?”

“Of course.”

“But… In the end…” He reached forward, taking a lock of her bedraggled hair between his fingers. “You outdid every other possible candidate.”

Her smile grew and for a second she felt that clichéd skipped heartbeat. “Gold star for me.”

Grinning, he drew her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. “Anything else we should know about the future that might throw a wrench in things?”

“Be prepared for _Clois_ …” she warned, amused. “While Clark and I are definitely not on speaking terms, from what I gathered… He and Lois eventually get their crap together…” She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know who I should be more worried for… Us or them…”

“We’ll be fine,” he assured.

“Oh I know that…” She absently played with the zipper of his vest. “But we have to bare witness to Lois and Clark… Denial is equally their middle names. And knowing the future or not, I have a feeling Lois won’t make it easy.”

He sighed. “She never does.”

“On the bright side… any worries about _this_ ,” she motioned between them, “blowing up in our respective faces has entirely faded.”

“You needed psychic-Lois to tell you that?” He squeezed her waist. “I could’ve saved you the time.”

“I wonder if your arrogance ever fades,” she teased.

“I think you’re stuck with it.”

Chuckling, she nodded. “Gladly.”

After a few long moments of silence, Oliver moved to lay them down on the couch. Since Lois was hogging the bed and going back to his penthouse wasn’t an option, he’d take what he could get. Snuggled up to him sleepily, she closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat against her ear.

“Sidekick?”

“Mm?”

“This stuff with Clark…”

He frowned, not sure how to expand on it.

Clark, her best friend, someone she’d been mourning the loss of the last two years, was straight out saying that she shouldn’t waste her time with Oliver; that he was no hero; that he had made too big a mistake to come back from. Could she really hear someone she trusted so much say such things and _not_ be swayed in the least?

“Clark’s opinion is his own,” she murmured. “I know you. And what you did, what _I_ did, we’ve accepted it and moved on. We can’t live our lives in regret and he… I don’t know. Maybe, hopefully, he’ll understand that one day.”

“You’ve already spent a year without him…” he trailed off, doubt and worry battling in his mind.

“Yeah and while I missed him I just so happened to find someone else on the way… Someone I love and trust and who I know won’t make the same mistake he did.” Tilting her head back, she looked up at him. “I missed him, I still do, but… I’m not going to let that get in the way of this… of us.”

He wanted to ask if she was sure, but the honesty of her statement was written on her face. Stroking her cheek, he leaned forward to kiss her. “His loss.”

Smiling, she cuddled up and sighed against him once more. “Your gain.”

He couldn’t regret that, not in the least.


	5. Part Five

******V**.

_One Year Later_

Clark Kent stood uncomfortably to the side, dressed in a tux that left little to the imagination. The next time he needed to rent a suit, he wasn’t bringing Lois along. For some reason, he had a feeling she tweaked the measurements a little. The smirk she sent his way every time she walked past him was only lending more suspicion to his thoughts.

A flash ran past and he didn’t need to squint to know it was Bart running amok. Victor and AC were quickly chasing after him, despite knowing neither would have a chance at actually catching him. “Did you see him?” they asked.

He nodded his head to the left. “Was he carrying flowers?” he wondered curiously.

“Chloe’s,” they explained before rushing away.

Shaking his head, Clark stepped further into the large white tent set up in the sprawling expanse of backyard situated behind Queen Manor. Rows of chairs sat on either side of the white rug spread from the flower-rimmed entrance to the front stage where a minister stood talking to someone. He spotted his mother sitting in the front row, her camera in her hands. Two bodyguards stood off to the side, mumbling into mics attached to their shirt cuffs. He wasn’t sure if they were for the guest of honor or his senator mom. Either way, the place was under extra security and he couldn’t dislike the atmosphere. People were chatting amongst themselves, faces he both recognized and didn’t. Socialites here or there, mixed in with friends and family.

Lois appeared next to him, dressed in a very attractive green gown that he had to force himself not to stare at too long.

She frowned at him. “Looking a little stiff, Smallville. This is a wedding, perk up!”

Clearing his throat, he rolled his shoulders. “I would if my suit didn’t feel like it was painted on.”

She chuckled slightly. “Not my fault the seamstress can’t read. Maybe they just don’t make suits in ‘super-muscle’ anymore…”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Pursing her lips, she glared at him. “Hey, this is the wedding of the year! I expect big smiles and hugs all around!”

Clark looked at her from the corner of his eyes, unexpectedly uncomfortable. “I don’t think either of them are going to appreciate me being here, let along my congratulations.”

“That depends,” she said, staring at him seriously. “Do you _mean_ it?”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned around and left him deep in thought, snagging a glass of champagne off a platter as a waiter walked past.

“Miss… Those are for later… I have to insist that you—“

“Can it. Maid of honor gets a few passes, all right? Now I have to go make sure the bride isn’t making a run for it… Do you want to explain to the big guy why his bride-to-be isn’t standing in front of him at the altar?” She smirked. “That’s what I thought.” Continuing her arrogant swagger, she left the tent while Clark simply smiled to himself. Unbelievable; she really was.

It was ten minutes later that the groom had taken his place at the front; Victor, AC and a fidgety Bart at his side.

Clark took his seat next to his mother, feeling a pang of regret as he saw Lois walking down the aisle and knew that once upon a time, he might’ve been escorting her, having been asked to play an important part in this wedding. With a sly wink in his direction, Lois stopped at the front and turned to face the back.

Stepping forward beneath a beautiful array of colorful tulips, a bouquet of roses, lilies and baby’s breath in her hands as she walked slowly up the aisle, her arm hooked around her father Gabe’s, Chloe grinned with all the glow of the happiest woman alive. Clark remembered a moment much like this, where she walked to meet a very different man… And despite how incredibly excited she was at the idea of marrying Jimmy Olsen, it compared nothing to this, here, now.

He turned, wanting to see Oliver’s facial reply to find that the man he’d often misjudged was entirely absorbed in his soon-to-be-wife. A smile like never before graced the usually stoic face of Oliver Queen, the warmth in his eyes meant only for Chloe. He ignored the shove of his shoulder given by AC and held a hand out for her as she came near enough to take it. Stepping up the two white stairs to the platform, she passed her flowers to Lois before threading her fingers with Oliver’s and grinning up at him.

Clark glanced at Lois who was inconspicuously rubbing her nose and blinking her eyes rapidly. She glared at him when he smiled knowingly.

“Family, friends, guests and loved ones, we are gathered here today to witness the matrimonial bond between these two people. Marriage is a vow made between those who have looked toward the future and agreed that no other would suit to stand at their side, hold their hearts or love them quite as much or as dearly. It is a holy connection that a couple accepts as a lifetime of commitment, loyalty, friendship and love. Both Oliver and Chloe have written their own vows and so I will give them the opportunity to share what they have and what they will continue to nurture in the many years to come…”

Oliver cleared his throat, staying quiet a moment longer.

“I told him to write it on his hand,” Bart muttered impatiently.

There was a wave of quiet laughter that followed.

“I didn’t forget,” Oliver replied, turning his eyes upward.

“Then talk _louder_.”

“Bart!” Lois hissed, glaring.

Holding his hands up to ward off any attack, he shut up.

Shaking his head, Oliver grinned. “And that’s part of what you have to look forward to the next fifty years,” he joked lightly.

Chloe chuckled along with their guests.

As quiet dawned once more, he became serious.

“When I sat down to write my vows, I asked myself a few questions…” he began. “Why do I love you; why do you love me; where did we begin? And what makes us work… What means we’ll last a lifetime…?” He licked his lips. “If I was going to list all the ways I loved you, it’d take that whole lifetime… and Bart would get hungry, Lois would complain and the honeymoon would never come…” He grinned.

“Frankly, as arrogant as I am, I decided not to question why you love me. Partly because, I don’t want you to think yourself right out of it…” People chuckled and Chloe squeezed his hands, shaking her head at him. “Whatever you love about me, whatever I do that means you’ll be there every day of my life, I hope I keep it up.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “I can’t pinpoint the exact moment we started. There were situations and complications that got in the way and… and my feelings for you started a long time before yours were even a passing thought,” he admitted. “But I know when I fell in love with you. I know when I admitted it to myself and you that that was it… _You_ were it.”

He stared into her eyes searchingly, lovingly. “So Chloe Ann Sullivan, _Sidekick_ , I ask that you keep seeing in me what only you see… That you keep loving me as long as I know I’ll love you… And that we spend a lifetime together, doing what we do best and enjoying every spectacular moment of it.”

Sniffling, she nodded happily.

“Does that qualify as an ‘I do’?” Oliver asked the minister, who simply chuckled.

Laughing the emotion out of her voice, Chloe looked out at the crowd. “See what I have to put up with?”

Clark grinned.

Taking the platinum wedding band Victor held aloft, lined with four rows of green emeralds and white diamonds, Oliver held her hand up to slide the ring onto her finger.

She ran her thumb across it affectionately before taking his hands in hers once more.

“Oliver,” she started, voice soft.

“Don’t forget Escape Plan B!” Bart whisper-shouted to her.

Throwing her hands in the air, Lois groaned. “You’re going to lose a vital organ if you don’t can it, Speedy!”

Making a motion to zip his mouth shut, Bart shrugged.

Shaking her head at the antics, Chloe smiled up at Oliver. “There has never been a person that I love, respect or trust more than I do you.” She licked her lips as they shook with emotion. “With all we’ve seen and done, all we’ve faced and conquered, I can look at you and know that whatever comes… we’ll make it through.” She blinked quickly, wrinkling her nose to keep her tears at bay.

“I love…” She breathed out a sigh, trying to stop her voice from quaking. “I love you for always being here… For making me feel like there is nothing and no one that you could or would love more… I love you for your honor, for the way you understand me, and how despite all else, you never stop. You never walk away or give up or forget all that you stand for.”

Swallowing tightly, she closed her eyes for a moment and then looked back up at him. “So Oliver Jonas Queen…” She smiled rapturously. “I ask that you live this life with me… That you’re there when I get myself in sticky situations, as I entirely too often do… That you continue to love me and be the man that I love for the rest of our lives… And I ask that you let me love, honor and cherish you until death finally does us in…”

He grinned, nodding swift and certain.

Taking the platinum band from Lois’ outstretched hand, she turned back to slide it onto Oliver’s finger, grinning widely.

Clearing his throat, the minister drew the attention back to him for a split-second. “Do you, Oliver Queen, take this woman, Chloe Sullivan, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto her for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Chloe Sullivan—“

“So do!” she exclaimed before he could finish.

With a short laugh, the minister nodded. “Then by the power vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife and wish upon you both a long-lasting love and marriage.” Smiling, he looked between them. “You may now kiss your bride.”

“Finally,” Oliver murmured before sliding an arm around her waist and drawing her into him. His free hand clasped the back of her neck, thumb stroking slow and gentle while her palms pressed flat against his chest.

“So this is it,” Chloe whispered. “The last piece of our grand puzzle.”

Nodding ever-so-slightly, he leaned forward, breathing against her lips, “The adventure’s only beginning.” With that, he kissed her; a long moment where lips meshed together, eyes fell closed, on-lookers sighed appreciatively and Lois pretended to be unaffected while fanning her face with the flowers.

As clapping rose, Oliver and Chloe parted, smiling out at the people around them. Their guests stood and Clark followed, nodding at the couple as they moved to walk past him. Chloe beamed at him, reminiscent of a time when he was her most trusted ally. They continued down the aisle while he watched from afar. Without warning Lois’ arm looped with his, making him turn to look at her.

“She forgave you a long time ago, you know…” she said without looking directly at him. “Maybe now it’s time you forgave yourself.”

He stared at her thoughtfully. “So this is what you saw then? They get their happily-ever-after?”

She smiled contently. “A lifetime of it.”

He nodded, brow furrowed as he accepted this truth. “You never told me about what you saw for yourself… Or me…”

Her expression was caught between shock and worry. “You? Me? _Us?_ Uh, what do you mean? We just… We were there… Like usual… You know… Reporting…”

Clark frowned. “I know… But, what about everything else? You went six years into the future, Lois… Something had to be different.” He stared at her searchingly. He couldn’t help but wonder just how much she knew, what she’d seen.

Suddenly, her mask returned and she slapped his chest with bravado. “Other than you sporting a very tight red and blue spandex suit and geeky glasses for a disguise, _Superman_ , there’s not much more to tell.” While he stood slack-jawed, she smirked triumphantly and walked past him. “I’ll save you a dance, just try not to crush my toes!” she called back.

Turning, astonished, he watched her go, the sway of her hips drawing his eyes. He laughed shortly, shaking his head. She really, truly was, and always would be… downright unbelievable.  
  
[ **The End.** ]


End file.
